Excuses and Truth
by Michelle Birkby
Summary: GrissomSara, spoilers for Bloodlines. Grissom's been hiding behind excuses. What can make him face the truth
1. Excuses

_Italics_ is Grissom's inner thoughts

He made excuses. It wasn't right. It wasn't professional. It wasn't good for her. He wasn't good for her. And gradually, the excuses overwhelmed the truth. Bit by bit, he forgot what he was trying to forget.

He forgot that she loved him, and he'd rejected her. And not for any of the sensible, appropriate reasons he told himself, but because he was afraid. Afraid of what she stirred in him. The passion he thought he'd reined in long ago. The control he felt slip in her presence. The disorder and passion and emotion she brought to his carefully defined, delineated, precise world.

He was afraid of Sara.

But that was months ago. He'd even got over the shock of seeing her dead, seeing her double dead. He'd carefully forgotten how shaken he was, how he stayed in that house, close to where the not-Sara had died, until he knew the truth. He'd firmly, ruthlessly repressed everything he felt. And in the dawn, when the pale light would slip through his shades, and he'd lay awake, all subterfuge stripped away, the truth before he told himself it was for the best.

He loved Sara

It was wrong to love Sara

It wasn't good for her.

He was her supervisor, he had to protect her.

She was young, and foolish, and didn't see how unsuitable he was as a lover for her.

So he had to stop it, now, before it got too far.

He did not love Sara.

Except there comes a time when every man must stop making excuses. And Grissom's came one night, in his office, alone. fully concentrated on his work.

The phone rings, and he answers it. The man on the other end asks if he knows a Sara Sidle.

Apprehension begins to stir in Grissom's chest. No phone call at this time of night can be good. And then the words.

"She has been involved in a incident...in her car."

And no excuses can save Grissom now. Because in the ten seconds between hearing those words and learning she is alive and unhurt, at least physically, fear has taken hold. And the excuses shrivel and fall away, and all that is left is truth

_Sara. Oh God, Sara. Let her be ok. Please, please, let her be ok. Not Sara. Anybody but Sara._

_Sara._


	2. Truth

She looks so pale and fragile, and in his new state of awareness, Grissom is almost afraid to approach her. He walks towards her, gently, afraid to spook her. No longer smothering his instincts under years of retreat, he is aware all he wants to do is hold her.

_Will she let me? Is it too late? Have I lost her? Sara, my Sara, I should have told you. Would you be here if I had told you?_

With a deep breath, he surrenders the last of his defences.

"C'mon, I'll take you home."

She comes willingly, and he's surprised to find how compliant she is. And how right her hand feels in his hands. Her long, soft fingers wrapped around his. The feeling of warmth that spreads from his hand, so tightly clutched around his, to the rest of his body.

They reach the car, and Sara goes to get in, but he won't let go of her hand.

_I never want to let go of you again. I can't. What if I lose you? How can I make you stay, now I know I need you?_

Sara misinterprets him, and starts to say something.

"Grissom, I'm sorry..."

Still holding her hand, with his other hand, he places his fingers on her mouth to shush her. Her eyes widen, surprised, but she doesn't say a thing.

"I'm sorry. I...I..." he tries to say.

Grissom has lost his articulacy. He has no words for this.

_I love you _

His mouth opens and closes, and he is aware he must look stupid, not a word coming out, but he has lied for so long, the truth cannot get past his throat.

_I need you _

She is turning away, disappointed.

_Sara, please, still love me. I will die if you don't._

And he realises he doesn't need words. Gently, he leans forward. He hasn't done this in so very long, he's afraid he'll get it wrong. And all of a sudden, he's as unsure as a schoolboy.

_What if she pulls away? What if I've already lost her?_

But then he looks in her eyes. And he realises that while she has only ever seen excuses in his eyes, he can see truth in hers. And, his hand in her hair, he kisses her.

It's an almost shy kiss, at first. She is unsure, and he is unpractised. But then her hand reaches up, to his cheek, and pulls him in closer, and he feels the passion build inside him, and her lips part beneath his, and he wraps his arm around her, and draws her close to him. And this, this is the fairy-tale kiss he'd always dreamed of but doubted existed. Electric shivers down his spine, warmth spreading through him, his head light and spinning.

He pulls away, eventually. And looks at her.

"No more excuses." He says.

"I never made any." She tells him.

"I was telling myself." He tells her, and brushes away the hair blown across her face. And he knows, now, the truth.

_I love Sara._

THE END


End file.
